Places 38: Safety

 Safety

Within,
I’m often bound by pride.
The heavy weight of self-will
asserts it’s right to guide. 
Entitled, I alone decide
to backslide
from the innocence of trust.

Lord, help my self,
my very self to die—
I’d not defy Your love.
I would abide in Jesus,
be sweetly fragrant on His vine;
I’d let His Spirit, prune my branch,
or crush my bounty into wine. 

Help me look into Your eyes,
help me not be terrified,
help me find your humbling way,
through all dismaying headlines
on media news today. 

Greed and glut, now undenied,
rapacious flesh, dissatisfied,
and evil plans,
made plain before wise eyes,
are endorsed by popular vote.

Hatred seeks its scapegoats;
discipline is scorned by lawless men.
Such signs suggest a coming end.

Stretch the wedding bands
bonding earth to sky;
don’t strain Your strong foundations
past our understanding.

Help us watch the pangs
upon the lands—
birth wrings —
cries—
increasing groans—
disasters twisting rocks and seas,
shaking stars and men and trees,
as fields dry til no seeds grow,
floods surge, submerging lands,
usurp familiar footings
til we no longer know
what untried space is firm,
what covers undertows.
Passions rage to volcanoes—
bombs burst, words curse,
and tender little children hurt. 

Above all this
the starry heavens move,
the seasons change,
steadfast in our Maker’s praise,
singing of His worth,
and magnifying His pure ways.

Over besmirched  lands
the sun stills shines. 
Across the nations, grapes
still ripen on the vine,
and angels hear God say,
“Pick him today—help her, prune them.
They’re Mine.” 

Come—
Touch the warmth of Jesus breast.
Hear His heartbeats, feel His love.
Questions of life and death dissolve
in perfectly ordered beauty,
perfectly simple rest.